One Last Thing

I think sometimes there is a word unsaid. It’s lost and you swallow back the echoes of a mouth. Choking under the swarm, as I sink lower. As I’m pulled to the dregs. As I see that above me. All around me. Fading, pulsing, drowning. Ghosts in the water with me. Flecked as the waves. Swarming smoothly, lapping at what remains. Gliding, guiding, forcing me to remember. All that has been given to me. But slippery as the blue around me. For really it is clear. All of it. We think we can see. But we can’t. Perception is a dangerous game. What is there, never truly is. I am sinking now. I am gasping. My breath isn’t lasting. They say it will race before you. In those last moments. Pressure is building. Ironically; I’m freer than ever, but it’s weighing. Weighing down, that’s what it does. But I’m focusing on that one moment. The small details. They count. The droplets, not the ocean. It’s a single tear. I can feel.